


Faithful Men

by Oneiroi



Series: Song Fics [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe- 1950's, Case Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, No historic accuracy, Noir-ish AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:12:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneiroi/pseuds/Oneiroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"The body of a woman, Mallorie Cobb, wife of Police Chief Dominic Cobb, was found this morning in an alley in the western part of town. Preliminary findings indicate that she fell from the window of a hotel room, located in said alley. Only further investigations will tell us if her death results from suicide or murder."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the noir-ish atmosphere, but by writing this I realised that I actually knew nothing about it. And I'm way too lazy to document myself thoroughly on the subject, so I'm afraid there's little to no historic accuracy in this fic.  
> Same goes for Chicago in the 1950’s and the hierarchy and functioning of the CPD. I simplified it to "Chief", "Assistant Chief" and all the others... So let’s just pretend that everything’s accurate, since the story takes place in an alternate universe!  
> Brace yourself, there are 4 chapters coming!
> 
> (And in advance, sorry but I've no idea what I'm doing with the paragraphs)

 

 _November 24th, 1951_   

"Philippa, James! Get ready for school! You're going to be late! ". Dom was idly sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper, a contented look on his face, while Mal was finishing wrapping the children's sandwiches. She glanced at the clock hung above the fridge: already 7.30 and the kids were still upstairs, doing God knew what. "Moooom I can't find my other sock! I think James hid it, but he won’t tell me where! Mooooom James pinched me!" Mal sighed loudly, dropped the two packed lunches on the kitchen table and ran upstairs. "If when I get here you're not both ready, sparks will fly!".  
     As all hell broke loose upstairs, Dom was still enjoying his breakfast and peacefully reading his paper.

 

* * *

 

     It was only 8.05, but the police station was already buzzing with activity. Phones were ringing, convicts and drunkards were yelling and the police officers seemed to be more than slightly overwhelmed by all this. Cobb passed through this chaos without looking disturbed. He nodded in greeting to a few people, said hello to the new receptionist. She was a cute thing. And efficient, which didn't spoil anything.He was purposefully heading towards his private office, wanting to escape this noise as soon as he could. He was only a few feet away when someone caught up to him and put a firm hand on his shoulder.

     “Good morning Chief, how are you doing?”. Cobb stopped and turned to the man who had greeted him. He was smiling thus making dimples appear on his cheeks. They made him look younger than he was and gave him a boyish air that had helped him out of tough situations, as much as it had put him in some tricky ones. Dom knew it from experience.  
“Fine, thank you Arthur.” The Chief began walking, hoping for his Second to go away and resume whatever he was doing before he came and disturbed his so far peaceful morning. Unfortunately, the man was stubborn and he escorted Cobb to the closed door of his office.  
“How's Mal? And are the kids still…lively? It's been awhile since I've seen them...” He looked as though he truly cared, so Dom took the trouble to answer him, even though the ruckus that had gone on around them was starting to give him a headache.  
“Yes, we've been very busy lately, haven't we? You should come home and have dinner with us one day, just like in the old times! Mal's great, as usual, and the kids are lovely, two little angels! So, what have we got today?” The Police Chief had resigned himself to ask the question, though he was dreading the answer would ruin his mood and day. At the way the Assistant Chief straightened up, Cobb could tell his fear was not unwarranted. Something had happened, something big...  
“The usual” Arthur began “three firefights in the West part of town about twenty minutes ago. A few wounded, possible deaths, we haven't been on the site yet, we were waiting for your orders 'cause it might be too dangerous to go now if they're not over shooting each other...”

     Cobb was a bit taken aback: this was not what he had been expecting... But it was better, this was something he was used to and that didn't require much work from his part. He didn't let his surprise or his relief show on his face. Instead he squinted and asked:  
“Settling of accounts among the mob? This early in the morning? They really give us no rest, do they?"  
"Might be, we've got no details yet.” Arthur shrugged. He noticed that Cobb was about to turn and lock himself in his office, like he had done every morning for the past three years. He promptly continued.   
“Also, more importantly, we might have an incriminating proof against Saito.” During all their little exchange, Cobb had been halfway turned towards his office. But to these words, he faced his Second and finally gave him his full attention.  
“Incriminating proof? What kind? Is it reliable?” Arthur had thought that his old friend would be more enthusiastic about this news, but knowing him he probably didn't want to get his hopes up for no reason.

     Saito was currently public enemy number one. He had come from nowhere and had rapidly built an empire based on a dependable underground network and financed by all kinds of illegal business. As it always was with those big fish, they'd never managed to directly link him to any of his shady activities. The only times he had appeared before a judge, he had been released in the blink of an eye thanks to his excellent lawyers or because of a so-called mistake in the case. The police had been trying to catch him for years, and had never succeeded.  
     When Cobb was still working in the field, Saito was already a prime target. With his partner at the time, they had come close to proving that the mob boss had ordered the murder of a business partner who had become a bit of a hassle. But Cobb's partner, Joshua, had been killed one day on his way home. It had been set up to look like an accident, but Dom knew better. Unfortunately the Chief at the time was corrupt and closed both cases. One on the pretense that the proofs had been compromised and were thus unusable, and the other by saying that all evidence showed it was an accident.  
    Dom had shut his mouth, choosing to play the long game and wait for the right time for revenge. He had made a promise to himself and to Joshua: he would arrive on top and from there, he would chase Saito with all the resources of the Chicago Police Department. After that, Arthur Pendry had been assigned as his new partner. The two of them were very good together and swiftly got promoted, until one day they were Chief Dominic Cobb and Assistant Chief Arthur Pendry.

     Arthur allowed himself to smile a little. “This time, I think we might be on something... Follow me.” He led the way to one of the interrogation rooms. He pointed the small pane on the door to Dom who tilted his head closer to the glass and squinted.  
     In the dimly lit room there was a plain table with two seats on each side. On one of them, a young man was sitting. With his deep blue eyes, high cheekbones and air of self-importance, he could have been a model for these teenagers magazines Pippa liked so much, even though she really was too young to read this kind of things, but Mal had allowed her to, so there was nothing more to be said... His arms were folded and he wore a bored and exasperated look on his face, which only reinforced the impression that he was doing them a favor in being here and that he didn't like to be kept waiting.Chief Cobb turned his head to Arthur, looking puzzled.

     “Who's this? I don't recall having ever seen him in anything related to Saito...” His squint had intensified, and Arthur was torn between laughing and advising him to stop, worried he’d pull a muscle and end up being stuck like this for a while. In the end, he adopted a neutral expression and answered his inquiry.  
“Robert Fisher Junior, son of Robert Fisher, head of Fisher&Morrow's Industries. It seems he's had a fight with his father a few years ago and they haven't spoken ever since that day.” Cobb frowned and rubbed his chin with his hand.  
“What does it have to do with Saito and with us?”  
“Nothing” Arthur replied “I made a few research on him, and he seems to be clean, that's all. So this morning, around 7.30, he came in and said he's got info on Saito and his business and that he's ready to testimony against him... In court.”

     Cobb let a nervous little giggle escape him. Arthur looked at him, one eyebrow raised, but didn't comment, because to be honest he did have wanted to do this too when this guy came out of nowhere and handed them the most wanted criminal on a plate.  
“Who's this guy? Santa? Last I checked, we were still in November! And what exactly has he told you?” Dom asked, still slightly laughing.  
“Actually, he hasn't told me much.” The Assistant Chief looked a bit sheepish. “He just said it was very important and that he wanted to speak to you and you only.”  
Cobb's smile fell and without another word, he turned and opened the door of the interrogation room.

     As they entered, Fisher rose and extended a hand. The Police Chief shook it and they sat down after having exchanged a few greetings. Arthur stayed behind Cobb, his back to the wall and his arms crossed. Dom didn't have to look at him to know he was frowning, just as Arthur didn't need to see his superior to know he was squinting, again.  
“So, Mr. Fisher, let's get straight to the point: I was told you have some information regarding Mr. Saito's activities. Something that could, I was told, lead him to a trial where you'd be ready to testify against him?...” Cobb sounded unimpressed and doubtful. He leaned back casually in his chair, one arm on the table and the other around the back of his seat.

     Arthur knew the game had begun. Dom had this uncanny ability to get into other people's mind without them even noticing it. He managed to make them feel as though they were in a dream, either a good one they'd do anything to stay in, or a bad one they'd do anything to get out of. Then they told him all their deepest secrets.  
     When he was still in the fields, the guys at the station called him “the Extractor” because he could extract nearly anything from almost anyone. Almost but not quite, because so far two people had managed to resist him. One of them was Hirohito Saito, and the other one, only Arthur knew about it.

     Fisher was just like the others, maybe a little tougher because he didn't outright spilled everything he knew, but still, he was not immune to Dominic Cobb's magic trick. He refused to speak for a few minutes, looking offended that the Police Chief questioned the importance of his information. Yet when Cobb didn't push further, and still seemed uninterested, the young man gave in. Apparently, being thought of as insignificant was something he couldn't stand...  
“I do, indeed, detain this kind of information.” He paused for a few second, to think or to show that he was willingly giving them what they wanted and not losing the game with the Chief. “I witnessed Hirohito Saito killing someone.” He stopped talking and smiled smugly. Whish was clearly inappropriate.  
     Cobb, still looking unimpressed, told Fisher to hold his thoughts while Arthur was getting a pen and some paper to write everything down. Arthur exited the room with a small grin and took all his time to get what his superior had asked for. When he returned to the questioning room, Cobb was watching his nails and Fisher's sullen look was back. Arthur put everything on the table and took back his place against the wall.

     “So... Let's start from the beginning. Could you tell us what you saw exactly, please? When and where you saw it, and why you happened to be there at that time.” Cobb slightly raised his head, pen in hand, waiting and ready to write. With an exasperated sigh, Fisher started.  
“A couple of days ago, I went to a bar, in the shady part of town."  
"Where exactly, please?”  
Fisher squirmed uncomfortably on his chair. His cheeks had become slightly pink in embarrassment and he clearly looked ill at ease. The Police Chief took a glance at his watch.  
“We don’t have all day, sir. Could you please tell me precisely where it was, and what you were doing there?"  
"I can give you the address, but I’d rather we don’t talk about what I was doing there… You don’t need to know this anyway, do you? That I saw him there doing something illegal is all that matters, isn’t it?” Fisher sounded shy and offended at the same time, and a frown had appeared on his face.  
“I’m sorry sir, but we do need to know, else, even if what you brought us is gold, we won’t be able to use it in court. And we might even have to take pursuits against you for withholding proofs and associating with a criminal... But we don’t want that, you don’t want that, do you?”

     Fisher’s frown deepened, he pursed his lips in obvious dissatisfaction, and after emitting a loud sigh, he resigned himself to speak.  
“Alright… I have what you could call a gambling habit. I often play poker, I do it for the thrill, so what better way to feel this thrill is there, than to play in an illegal game? I found an… adequate little bar on South Emerald avenue, in Armour Square. It’s called The Chip, and if I am well informed, it is owned by Mr. Saito.” Fisher paused, looking at the Chief and his Second, as if to assure himself he had their full attention. “As a gambler, I’m always looking for the best and most interesting games. So that night, when I saw who I believed was Mr. Saito sitting at a table in a corner, I came closer hoping to get a poker party with him. But as it happens, he was in a deep conversation with some guy, and he really didn’t seem pleased with him. I didn’t want to get in trouble so I just walked away and went to another poker table."  
"So that’s it? You’ve just heard Saito talk to some guy in a shady bar, and you thought that would put him behind the bars. Well, if that’s it, I’m afraid we’ll have to charge you for playing money in an illegal establishment. How long will he take, Assistant Chief Pendry?"  
"Wait, I'm not finished!" the young man looked slightly panicked now. "So I play for a while, then I leave using the backdoor to have a smoke behind the building, as usual. There, before I can even light my cigarette, I hear some noise in an alley nearby. I go where the sound came from, just in case some help was needed, and there I see them: Saito and two other men, their back to me, and a third man. I couldn't hear well what was going on, but the third man seemed to be begging Saito rather fervently for something."  
"How do you know that? I thought you couldn't hear what they were saying..."  
"Because he had his hands up and he was kneeling! Anyway, suddenly Saito raises his hand and the guy to his right shoots the poor guy dead, a bullet right between his eyes.” Fisher poked between his own eyes with a frightened air. Then he leaned back in his chair, dropped his hand on the table and let a heavy sigh escape him, as though telling the story had taken all his energy.

     “And then? What happened?” continued the Chief. Fisher looked startled that this wasn’t over yet.  
With a pissed off glance to Cobb, he spit. “I was scared, so I ran as fast and far as I could."  
"And why didn’t you run directly to the Police Station?"  
"Because I was scared they’d follow me and kill me too!"  
"Hmm… When did you say you witnessed this… thing?"  
"A couple of days ago, probably. And before you ask, I didn’t come before because I was scared, and I don’t know what they did with the body because I was scared and I ran away.” To this word, the young man’s faced visibly closed. They weren’t going to extract anything more from him, at least not today.  
“Very well, someone will come in a couple of minutes to type down everything you told me. In the meantime, please stay in here. After everything is settled, you’ll be free to go back home.”

     The Chief rose, making his chair scrape against the floor and left the room, his Second by his side.  
“So, what do you think, Arthur began, can we rely on what he told us?"  
"Seems genuine to me, answered Cobb. So far, our sources outright refused to give us even a tiny thing on Saito, but this time it's different: they won’t have to actually say anything, they’ll just have to verify a few bits. I think we’ve got something to work on.”Cobb’s eyes were gleaming, just like a predator’s eyes were before it launched on its prey.  
“I don’t want to be a spoilsport, but don’t you think there’s something fishy here?” Arthur tentatively tried to reason his superior. “I know I was excited too, in the beginning, but after seeing and hearing the guy, I think it’s too good to be true… Plus I feel he’s hiding something from us…”  
“You know I’ve always appreciated skepticism and love for details, which have helped us many times before. But right now you are indeed, and I’m sorry to say that, a spoilsport. I think this is the best, if not the only, chance we'll ever have at catching Saito and locking him up for good. You know I’ve waited this moment for years, you’re my friend, Arthur, so can’t you just be happy for me?” Cobb’s words had deeply hurt Arthur, but he knew his friend wasn’t in his right mind and it was his job to make sure that everything turned out ok.  
“I hope you're right... But I don't want to be too hasty, I’ll personally verify everything he said, is that ok with you?"  
"I guess one can never be too careful? But I think it’ll just be a waste of time… Though if you are right about all this, it's indeed better if you check. I don’t want things to turn sour and backfire on me, I could lose my place!” For a moment, Arthur saw a flicker of madness in his friend’s eyes, but then he thought it was just his own imagination.  
“Ok Chief. And for the firefights of this morning, what are your orders?"  
"Send a few men there, tell them to take a look, but not for too long. I don't want my men being hurt over some savages’ fight. I'll be in my office if you need me."  
"Yes, Chief.” Arthur had barely finished his sentence that his superior was already locking himself in his office.  
     He shook his head in disbelief, wondering what had happened to the enthusiastic yet wise guy for whom justice and his wonderful wife were the only things that mattered.

     Arthur walked towards the front desk where the new secretary was idly doodling on a sketch book.  
“Miss Mines?”Athur called, but the little brunette was so engrossed in her drawing that she hadn’t heard him. “Ariadne!” Arthur tried again, raising his voice.  
     The young girl jumped with surprise and looked to the man who had disturbed her, mouth half open in surprise. She really was a lovely girl.  
“Oh, Arthur! I mean, good morning First Deputy Pendry! I’m sorry I didn't hear you coming, what can I do for you?” she seemed genuinely pleased to see him and eager to help.

    She hadn’t been working at the station for long, and Arthur had more or less taken her under his wing, showing her the ropes, introducing her to the important persons and making sure everybody treated her well, even though she was a woman.  
“I'd like you to make a call to see if there's any patrol car in the area of the gunfights of this morning. If not, send two cars over there. Tell the guys not to stay too long, and to come back if it’s still hot, orders of the Chief."  
"Alright! I'll do it right away!”She said, already picking up the phone to do as she was told.  
Arthur smiled and nodded.”Perfect, thank you very much, Miss Mines. Have a nice day.” Then he turned and started to head back to his own office. It was smaller than Chief’s, of course, but it was still a private one, which was a great luxury when you had known the open space for the greater part of your career.  
     When he was a few feet away, Ariadne called him back, holding the phone near her ear. “Oh, Mr. Pendry! You've received of small package and a letter; they're on your desk!”  
Arthur frowned “Who are they from?”  
Ariadne shrugged, still holding the phone“I have no idea, sorry, there was no name on it, just yours.”  
“Ok, thank you Ariadne.”He resumed walking towards his office, a concerned look on his face.

     When he opened his door, the first thing he did was looking at his desk. On the center of said desk was indeed resting a small package wrapped in kraft with an envelope on top of it. The letter was attached to the package by a string that held the wrapping closed. Arthur shut the door behind him and came closer, bypassed his desk and sat on his chair. He looked at the mysterious gift for a couple of minutes, and then took it in his hands.  
     To the touch he guessed it was a wooden box. He weighed up it suspiciously and brought it to his eyes, making it turn in his hand to observe each corner meticulously. He then bent his head a little to sniff it, but then changed his mind, thinking it was ridiculous to do this, especially since he hadn’t even opened the package yet. He put it back down on his desk and decidedly untied the knot that held everything together.  
     He turned his attention to the letter. It was a quality cream white envelope which looked expensive and on it was written a single word in big hand-written letters “Arthur”. He didn’t recognize the handwriting but everything felt familiar… He decided to read the letter later and put it aside. He carefully unwrapped the box and put the paper and string aside for further examination, if need be.  
     The box was, as he had guessed, made of wood. But it wasn’t just a box; it was a music box, which must have been of great value. It was quite simple, made of dark shining wood, probably polished ebony, with just a few silvery engravings. It seemed ancient and rare and reminded the young man of the full moon nights. Even though the box looked precious, it wasn’t the kind of object that you felt bad using, in fear of breaking them. The person who had sent this to him surely knew his tastes. He opened the music box and a gentle melody filled the air. [“Clair de lune de Debussy”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruf5I4eQHY8) Arthur softly whispered. It was his favorite song, because it always managed to soothe and reassure him whenever he was upset. More than once he had fallen asleep to the sound of his gramophone playing it. The person who had him this gift really knew him very well…

     He turned his gaze to the letter, carefully set the dark box on the desk without closing it so it would keep on playing the soothing music, and took the letter in his hands. He cautiously opened it.    

 _“Darling,  
_ _I'm sure you're wondering why I sent you this little gift. As it happens, several reasons motivated my actions:  
_ _Firstly, you know how much it pleases me to shower you with the most delightful and tasteful presents.  
_ _Secondly, I wished to show you that nothing could make me forget what you like.  
_ _Thirdly, I've come back. I'll be waiting for you tonight, at our usual place.  
_ _Yours forever, E.”_

     Arthur leaned back in his chair, the letter still in his hand, a small smile appearing on his face. “A phone call would have sufficed, you idiot...” He rewrapped the music box, safely put it away in his desk and slid the letter into his jacket.

 

* * *

   

     Arthur knocked on the door of the Chief's office, and then entered without waiting for a reply.  
“Good afternoon Chief, I've done a few researches on what Fisher told us, but I feel some things are still missing. I've got an appointment settled with an informer, do you mind if I leave early? I know it’s only 6.30, but I have to arrange a few things more…” Cobb barely raised his head from his sheet of paper. He vaguely agitated the pen he was holding in his hand, as one would do to get rid of an annoying fly.  
“Of course, of course Arthur. I trust you; you always do what you must, what is right.” The younger man looked mildly confused to be given so little notice, but he guessed that his friend was very busy. He didn’t want to bother him anymore, but he couldn’t prevent himself from asking:  
“Thank you Sir. Are you not going back home? I thought you told me you wanted to go home early today…"  
"Well, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, right? I wished I could go home now, but because of the gunfights of this morning I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do. And I want to finish this before tomorrow so we can concentrate on Saito."  
"Very well sir, I hope you'll manage to finish soon!"  
"Thank you, Arthur.” To these words, Arthur began to leave his superior’s office. He was about to close the door when he heard Cobb calling him.  
“ Oh, Arthur ! Could you please ask Miss Mines to call my wife and tell her I won't be able to make it in time for dinner, and probably not for the night either..."  
"Of course, good night Chief.” Arthur closed the door and strode to his own office.

     He carefully took the music box, put his coat and hat on and checked that the letter was still in his jacket. When he passed the receptionist desk, he asked Ariadne to call Mal and wished her a good evening. He reached his car in hurried steps and drove away quickly, eager to settle in the quietness of his little apartment.  
     As soon as he got home, Arthur went to his room and put the music box on his bedside table. Then he cleaned and tidied up a bit his apartment, making sure everything was in order. He took a quick scalding shower to get rid of the tiredness of his day and changed outfits. He put some perfume on but didn't comb his hair and let them hang loosely in soft curls around his face instead, knowing that was how his date preferred him. He put his coat on, checked one last time his apartment and his look and went away.

     While he was dressing up in the coziness of his home, it had starting raining outside and the night had fallen. It was little past 7, but the cold of the November night and the rain had emptied the streets already. To go where he was going, Arthur had to walk, though he wouldn’t have minded being shielded from the cold wind by the metallic walls of his beloved car.  
     He took several back alleys, which grew smaller as he went deeper into the maze of old buildings. He entered one that looked particularly dilapidated and about to collapse, crossed the hall to pass through a wooden battered back door that opened to a deserted dirty courtyard. To the left end of the yard, there was a little door leading to a narrow cobbled street. He had left behind him the part of town where the public lights worked and where the people you met were respectable. Here, the night swathed her darkness around you like a cloak, and the people you met would cut your throat for a cent. Silence and darkness reigned over this area, hardly disrupted by the sound of his feet clacking against the wet pavement and the small light of the burning tip of his cigarette.  
     As he was approaching another dark alley, he slowed down his pace until he finally came to a stop. He leant against the wall at the entrance of the small dead-end road and took a last drag, relishing in the feeling of the smoke swirling on his tongue and filling his lungs. He expired slowly and flicked his cigarette into a little stream where it died out with a little psshh. He then fully stepped into the alley and stopped in front of a big metallic door.  
     He knocked twice, then once, then twice again and waited. Through the thick iron the sounds of someone moving and undoing the locks were heard, and then the door opened. Suddenly, the silence and the darkness were broken as notes of jazzy music mixed with low chatter and a ray of light escaped from the half-opened door.

     A bald head appeared through the opening and stared at Arthur from head to toe. Then the man nodded and turned to let the policeman pass. Arthur went downstairs and arrived in front of a heavy velvety curtain. He drew it and the muffled sound of music and conversation suddenly became much louder.  
     The room was crowded with patrons from all horizons: men, women, Blacks, Whites and even a few Asians. Cigar and cigarette’s smoke filled the whole basement, from the most remote and dark corners where the poker tables were set, to the stage where a band was playing some [lively rock’n’roll-blues](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIz1cPfTRW4). Arthur quickly took a glance across the room, then went straight to the bar and sat on a stool.  
     The barman came close to him, idly wiping a glass. “Long time seeing you, Mr. Pendry! What can I get you?”  
“Don’t call me that, Yusuf, you know I don’t like it. Same as usual, please!” As the barman turned to pour his drink, Arthur sensed someone approaching the empty stool next to him.

     “Is this seat taken?” the stranger asked, in a thick American accent, while sitting in the former free seat next to the now pissed off cop.  
“Actually, yes, it is.” Arthur answered in a clipped and angry tone. He let an exasperated sigh as the man didn’t move and turned his head, preparing to tell him what suffering he would endure if he didn’t move his ass from the seat he was occupying. When the offending man came into view, Arthur stopped and his mouth fell slightly open.  
“Should I be offended that you didn’t recognise my lovely voice, darling?” The man said mischievously, this time in an English accented voice.  
“You know you’re way too good at his, Mr. Eames. I didn’t stand a chance.” Arthur smiled, almost laughing now. The Forger, as he was called in the business, raised his hand and cupped the other man’s cheek, gently caressing a dimple.  
“I missed you, did you miss me?” He said, mirroring Arthur’s smile. The man leaned seemingly unknowingly into the touch.  
“You’ve only been gone for a couple of weeks…”  
“You didn’t answer my question, pet.” The forger retorted with a fond look, still rubbing his lover’s cheek. He got a little closer to the other man, face only a couple of inches away and looked him in the eye. “Did you miss me?”  
Arthur closed his eyes and let his smile deepen. He put his hand on Eame’s. “Of course I did, you dumbass."  
"Oh darling, you always use the sweetest words.” Arthur emitted a small laugh and reopened his eyes.  
“You have safely come back to me; we should drink and… celebrate…” Arthur ended his sentence in a whisper.

     Their foreheads now touched fully and the two men were as close as it was decently possible in such a place. “You’re right” The Englishman said, his voice raspy. Then he tore his eyes from Arthur and separated their bodies, making it look as though it was an incredible effort he was doing.  
“Yusuf, my man! Get us a drink, will you?”  
“Yes yes lovebirds, but if you could not make out on my counter I'd appreciate it.”  
Eames laughed. “Sure mate, don’t worry ‘bout this and bring us two glasses of your finest whiskey, hmm?” The barman did so with an annoyed look and his face while mumbling and softly cursing.  
     “I’ve already got a drink, Mr. Eames.”Arthur said in a smile.  
“Well then, you should drink it quickly so we can drink to my return as soon as possible, and then get to the good part of celebrating.”The Forger said, grinning in a very predatory-like manner. Yusuf had brought the drinks and the two men clinked glasses. “To old loves and safe trips!”

     “So, how was Mombasa?” inquired Arthur after having put his glass down.  
“The usual: hot, crowded, shady… a bit like here, actually” the Englishman answered while taking a look around him. “With less white men and less women I think. More sand too. The business went well, that’s why I was able to come back home sooner. What about you, darling? How was your day?”  
Arthur’s smile faltered a bit. “Well, the usual too… And we might have something on Saito.” Then he stopped to take another sip from his drink.  
     Eames raised an eyebrow. “Well, you haven’t been staying idle, have you? And that’s all this incredible piece of news makes you feel? I’m sorry darling, but after all this time, I thought that when you finally got something on him, you’d jump everywhere in excitement… Which is quite the opposite of what you are doing right now.” He said, gesturing to Arthur’s currently very still and tensed posture.

     The Assistant Chief sighed loudly, and then began to explain everything Fisher had told them, the doubts he had and the details that didn’t match up, even though he'd worked all day on them. He didn’t talk about Cobb’s behavior, how he had been both surprised and disappointed at the man’s lack of prudence, but he knew that the Englishman would guess it nonetheless.  
     “So what do you think of all of this? I know you’ve just come back and you must be tired, so we can talk about it later, but I had to tell you, you’re the only one I can entrust with my… work-related issues.”  
“Don’t worry darling, I know it matters to you, so it matters to me too. Furthermore, we have all night before us to enjoy! As for what you told me, I’ll have to admit it sounds a bit too good to be true.”The Forger added, looking cautious and perplexed. “I mean you’ve been trying to nick this guy for the better part of your career. So far you didn’t manage to get even the tiniest incrimination against him, and then suddenly this bloke comes out of nowhere and hands him on a silver pl… Wait, what did you say his name was?"  
"Uh, Robert Fisher Junior. Why? Do you know him?” Arthur asked, excitement picking in his voice.  
“Well, I don’t know him personally, no, but I’ve heard of him. Brown hair, icy blue eyes, looks of a model? Little bitch I believe…"  
"Yes, that sounds just like him…”Arthur snorted, rethinking about this morning’s interrogatory with the man.

     “You see, rumors are that your dear Mr. Saito is batting for both teams, and I mean it not in the sense of a baseball game. Last I heard, he had a lovely kept boy with icy blue eyes whose name’s Robert. Thing was, Bobby didn’t like his sugar daddy to pay attention to other pretty things, and being the little bitch he was, he threw more than one fit. One of them was pretty nasty I reckon, so daddy didn’t want to clean his mess anymore. But, little Bobby had a rich and powerful father and uncle who paid some big money to cover up the case. It wouldn’t do to have the heir of the Fisher&Morrow’s Industries charged for assaulting a minor, would it? I think the poor guy almost died from the beating he received…”Eames winced sympathetically as he remembered the state in which the poor guy had been found. He had seen the pictures and it really wasn’t pretty, and he had seen some ugliness in his life.

     Arthur frowned, digesting what the other man had just told him. “So what, you think this is a set up? Fisher and Saito are plotting something against Cobb?”  
The Englishman took a sip from his drink. “I don’t know. It might be, though I’d rather go for it being another fit. Saito isn’t known for his love of monogamy, and maybe he just had enough of Fisher demanding him fidelity. And if just an affair angers him, I don’t how he’d react to being dumped…"  
"So you’re saying that I can actually rely on what he told us?" Arthur was a bit lost, he didn't see where Eames was going. He had had a long day and his head was starting to hurt.  
     "No darling, I’m saying you should be careful until you don’t know what happened between them. This man is a wounded lover, that’s for sure but how far is he willing to go? He seeks revenge, but he didn’t go to the press or some rival, he went to the police. Which means that either he’s so pissed he wants to see Saito behind the bars, and for good, or he wants to temporise because he knows it will take some time for the police to actually get to him. He just wants to scare him and then have him crawling back to him in apology. If it’s the second option, he would leave you alone and deny everything he ever told you when you need him most...”

     Arthur sighed loudly and rushed an exasperated hand in his hair. “You know what? Let’s talk about this later. I’m tired, I don’t want to think about the ‘whys’and ‘hows’ and ‘what ifs’ of all this because at that point, it could be a trap and Cobb could be jumping with both his feet inside of it, I wouldn’t care!”  
“Why, darling! Would there be trouble in paradise? Cobb’s not as perfect as you thought?” the Englishman began to grin, but he was soon interrupted by the cop snapping at him. “Cut it out. I’m serious here. I don’t know if today was a bad day or if it’s something else but I don’t want to think about it anymore. Let’s get on with the other part of the night you talked about earlier, hum?” Arthur raised his glass, finished it in one gulp and put it back on the counter with a loud noise.  
The Forger gave him a concerned and worried look but decided to let it go for the rest of the day. As his lovely cop had just said, they had more interesting things planned ahead of them...

 

* * *

 

_November 25th, 1951, 5.30am_

 

     A loud and strident ring emitted by the phone on the bedside table broke the quietness of the cosy bedroom. Some grunts rose from the entanglement of sleep-warm bodies and sex-wrinkled sheets. An arm extended from the bed and reached for the receiver, putting it close to an ear almost completely hidden under dark curls.  
“Mus’ be for you, darlin’.” Eames mumbled in a sleepy raspy voice, then he rolled over and pushed his head into the fluffy pillow.

     “’ello, Arthur Pendry speaking. What is it?” Arthur groaned, without out even opening his eyes, his face still almost irremediably embedded into the Forger’s shoulder. On the other side of the line the sound of a distraught voice and muffled sobs alerted the two men that something was definitely wrong.  
     Arthur opened his eyes and raised his head, elbow planted on Eames’ back, who was now very much awake too. “Whoever is on the phone, just calm down and explain to me what’s happened. Dom, is that you?”  
     From where he was lying on the bed, the Forger could perfectly understand those words. “She’s dead, Arthur. Mal’s dead.”

     The first moments following Dom’s declaration were eerily quiet. Arthur hung up the phone and straightened up in the bed. His mouth was slightly opened and he was staring at Eames who had turned to look at him. Then the reality of what was happening hit them and Arthur burst into tears. The Forger immediately reached for him and cradled him into his arms, whispering soft words into his ear.  
     They spent a few hours going in and out of various states of awareness, each in turn crying, comforting the other and laughing madly at the impossible nonsense of the situation. Halfway through the morning they’d managed to calm themselves and had realized that their dearest friend had died, leaving behind two little angels and a destroyed lover.

     They had each other. Now it was their role to find out who was responsible for her death, and to mend the broken lives she had left behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here I am, chapter 2! Once again, I apologise for the mistakes and all. As for the distinction between American and British English, I've tried to do it logically (British when Eames speaks or it's his POV, American for the rest) but I got confused somewhere in the process and well, I suppose the whole thing's a mess now.  
> Voilà, enjoy!

_The body of a woman, Mallorie Cobb, wife of Police Chief Dominic Cobb, was found this morning in an alley in the western part of town. Preliminary investigation indicates that she fell from the window of a hotel room, located in said alley.  
_ _The cause of death appears to be the fall, and no aggression’s marks were found on the body, though everything remains to be confirmed by “further examinations”, reported the forensic.  
_ _As for the exact circumstances of her death, a lot of questions are left unanswered so far: what was a respectable lady doing in that disreputable hotel, in one of the less secure areas of the city? Did she commit suicide or did someone push her?  
_ _Further investigations will be required; the Police Department will work hard to find the answers to all these questions._

 

* * *

 

 

_November 25 th, 1951 – 7.45 a.m._

 

     In the police station the atmosphere was heavy, for all knew that the Chief was currently mourning his wife in his office. The usual buzz was replaced by murmurs, only interrupted by a few phones ringing. When they passed the reception desk, Arthur saw that Ariadne’s eyes were red. She had obviously cried, which wasn’t surprising seeing how sensitive she was. When he greeted her, she seemed a bit jumpy, but he put it down to her grief because he knew that lately she had been getting closer to the Cobbs. Mal had met her and had immediatly taken her under her wing. She had always had a habit of picking up strays... When they arrived to Dom’s office, Arthur turned to Eames and told him to wait, that he’ll deal with Cobb’s inevitable first outburst and then warn him that Eames was there.

He knew that even though Mal had loved Eames as much as he had loved her in return, Dom had always had a few reserves when it came to the Englishman. His shady reputation and his ability to charm anyone and thus to always get what he wanted made him uneasy. A few days after their first encounter, he had played his 'extractor’s trick' on him. He wanted to determine if he was worthy of staying near Mal, Arthur and later the children and whether he was or not involved in illegal activities. Eames being  _the Forger_  had performed his act of 'I’m a respectable man and won’t be a bad influence' very well, but Cobb’s instincts were strong and even though he had decided to try and accept him, he had never truly taken to him. Arthur also suspected him of being jealous of Eames' relationship with Mal and Arthur, because he knew that Dom could reveal himself quite possessive, especially where his wife and best friend were concerned.

Knowing perfectly well that they’d need everything to go smoothly between them if they wanted to find out the truth about their friend’s death soon, Eames agreed to wait a few minutes behind. He was boiling with impatience and irritation inside, but he kept still. Over the years, he had done far more unpleasant and complicated things for Mal; for the one who had been his best friend for so long that he saw her as his only family -his darling and the sprogs aside, of course. He plunged an almost shaky hand in his trousers' pocket, took out a tooth-pick and began to actively chew it.

 

***

 

Arthur entered without knocking. He found his friend sitting at his desk, elbows on the wood and head in his hands. When he heard him he quickly raised his face, exposing his red and puffy eyes.

“Arthur…” he croaked. He wanted to say something else, to thank him for being here, to ask him to leave, to beg him not to ever leave but instead he burst into tears at the sight of his old friend.  Arthur ran to him and patted his back gently. It was awkward, but he didn't know what else he could do. He tried to remember what Eames had done earlier this morning to comfort him. He tried to find inspiration, and mostly courage and strength, because all he felt like doing now was collapsing beside his friend and whipping with him. He closed his eyes to push back the tears and took a deep breath.

“I know Dom, I know how hard it is. Believe me I truly do, and I know that all you want to do know is cry until you’re completely dry. But we  _must_  find out what happen and punish the culprit, if ever there is one…” He wanted to slap himself for saying that maybe, just  _maybe_  Mal's death wasn't a muder, thus implying... Dom hadn’t said a word, he was just nodding silently. Arthur saw this as a sign that his friend wasn't actually paying attention to his saying. He decided to cut this conversation short. He feared to again say something that could worsen the situation by hurting and saddening his friend even more. The situation was already difficult enough as it was, they didn't need any 'worsening'...

“I know you probably won’t be happy about it, but I’ve brought Eames with me. I want all of this to be over as soon as possible and with his help, it’ll go quicker than with just the two of us. And before you try to argue further, don’t forget that she was his friend before she was your wife, and if it weren’t for him, you would never have met her…”

Cobb sighed loudly and rubbed his hands on his face. “You’re right Arthur, now is not the time for misplaced distrust. We should get to work as soon as possible… “ The Police Chief rose from his chair and put his hands on his desk. His friend was surprised by this spurt of energy. It was hard to believe that only a few seconds ago the man was drowning in a sea of his own tears on his desk.

“I’ll let you lead the investigations while I’m away. I have to go home and check if the kids are okay. I left them with the neighbors this morning. Mal’s parents are trying to find a flight, but they don't know yet when they'll be able to take care of the children. Untill then, I have to be at their side...” Arthur understood where this 'energy' came from: Dom had switched his 'responsible and strong dad' mode on. It meant he'd be alone on this with Eames and a team, but maybe it was for the better...

They both exited the office, Cobb barely sparing a glance for Eames and muttering a small “Hello, thank you for everything.” Then he all but flew away, obviously eager to out of the station. Several men watched him as he was crossing the hall, a pained look in their eyes.  
“Well, that went better than I’d expected... Now I think we’ve lost enough time, we should get to work.” Eames said, his surprised-and-offensed-yet-a-little-relieved attitude giving way to a serious air.

 

* * *

 

_8.25 a.m_

 

As Chief Cobb had left Arthur to lead the case as he wanted, he decided to reunite a team where each member was carefully selected. They were all trustworthy and capable men who would follow Arthur’s orders without questioning them. They had all gathered in a corner of the open space where a blackboard had been brought. He had asked the men to get the reports of the interrogatories, the contact infos of the witnesses and everything else they could find that was related the Mal's death, and then to meet there.

“Before we start, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Eames. He will be working with us on the case as a consultant of sort. Everything you find, every intuitions, doubts or questions you have you tell him or me. If he gives you any order, you’ll have to obey without hesitating, just like you do with me. Is that clear?” A few men looked perplexed and some frowned, but they all agreed nonetheless, knowing that if their superior asked them to trust this man, they could, with their eyes closed. Arthur sighed softly, relieved that the men he had chosen hadn't made a fuss at the unusual situation. “Right, what have we got?”

All the men spoke, one after the other, stating what they had learnt earlier about the case. Arthur wrote everything on the board while Eames was nonchalantly leaning on a nearby desk, seemingly idly chewing up a toothpick-actually already the third since they had arrived-, but Arthur knew that he was in fact actively analyzing every single piece of information they had. A few seconds after the last man’s intervening, Eames finally came to life. He pushed himself from the desk and started pacing in front of the little team.

“Alright, so the victim’s body was found this morning around 5.30 in a squalid back alley near South Benson Street, just behind an equally sordid hotel. The man who found the body is the manager of said hotel and was taking the bin out when he literally stumbled over the corpse. So far, all the evidence says that Mrs. Cobb fell from the window of room 44. The window was opened; the injuries concord with the height and the hotel is the only building with windows giving on the alley. There are no witnesses: not for the fall, not for the argument which must have taken place accorded to the state of the room and not for Mrs. Cobb’s arriving in the hotel. Am I right so far?” he turned to Arthur and the men for agreement, they all nodded.

“So basically, we’ve got nothing. We don’t know how nor why she got there, with whom she was -supposing she wasn't alone-, and if she was pushed or if she jumped. Have we interrogated the manager? Why was he taking the bin out this early in the morning? And the staff, the other occupants of the hotel, no one has seen nothing?  And who’s the owner of the hotel? Does anything there have any link to the victim? Did she have ennemies?!" His voice had grown louder at every question he was asking. He stopped for a while, breathing deeply and heavily, trying to calm himself and regain control of his emotions. It wasn't like him to show so many feelings, and it angered him even more... He apologised quietly and kept on. "Are we  _sure_  there are indeed no witnesses? If I remember correctly, this part of town is always buzzing with activity, especially at night, it seems a bit odd that not a single soul knows nothing…” After his inflammed speech, Eames went back to the table against which he leant with a tired sigh.

A man with a big moustache and black glasses named Jim raised his hand and began to speak. “I know this is an important case, sir, but we haven’t had the time to do all this. We’ve questioned the manager, of course, who said that he hadn’t heard nor seen anything. He gave us the name of the owner who’s a certain Mr. Cobol, but we couldn’t check his background or contact him yet. As for the other occupants of the hotel, only 6 rooms out of the 16 were occupied. None of the occupants were awake. We’ve taken all their names to interrogate them later in the morning.” He used a very neutral and quiet tone to speak, wanting, and succeeding, to calm a bit the Englishman.

Eames nodded quietly, while Arthur was telling everybody what to do.

“Alright, Jim and John, you take care of the other occupants and the manager: see if you find something interesting while interrogating them, or in their past... Kevin and Xavier go back to the room and see if you find anything new. Frankie, ask the taxi companies if a lady with dark hair and a French accent went in the area yesterday night. I’ll take care of this Mr. Cobol and try to find a witness on my side too.” As the men left to do what they had been told to, the Englishman grinned and turned towards the cop “And what about me, Mr. Pendry? What should I do?”

Arthur sighed and allowed himself a little smile. He was tired too, but to see that his lover was back to his normal self was rather reassuring. “You, Mr. Eames, are going to question Dom and look into Mal’s life, see she had any enemies or if she… had any reasons to end her life…”the man’s throat had tightened on the last words, but Eames knew all too well that pointing it out would only make it worst. “Any enemies you say? Well apart from the fact that she’s the wife of the Police Chief and that he was just starting to work seriously on the Saito case I don't see why she'd have any... Oh wait, forgot this eensy-weeny detail: she was a wanted thief, and her best friend still is. But apart from this, I don't see at all how she could have ennemies! Maybe an irascible neighbour who didn't like her garden?" 

Eames kept on rumbling as he went away. Arthur shook his head as he watched him go. In any other circumstances he'd probably have made a comment, acerb and to the point, but right now, he was too tired. 

 

* * *

 

  _9.05 a.m._

 

Eames didn't go straight to see Dom. He wanted to leave him some time to breathe and dry his tears. And mostly he took advantage of his little break to take stroll and revitalise himself, sensing he would need all his strengths to face the man. When Eames arrived at the Cobbs’ home he was welcomed by shrieking and the loud sound of children running.

“Uncle Eames!!”  
“Hey, Pippa, Jamie! How’re you doing little demons?” he said, taking the little girl in his arms while her brother was intensily cuddling with the grown man’s leg. These two were really lovely.  
“It’s been a long time, uncle Eames.” Pippa said, a very serious frown on her face. "Too long even." Suddenly Eames wanted to cry: she resembled her mother so much... But he was strong, or rather he should be, for them.  
“Well, it has been, hasn’t it? At least three weeks!” it was actually more along two months, but she wouldn't be able to say, would she?

“Are you going to bring mommy back home?” James asked, his voice tiny “Daddy says she won’t ever come back, that she’s gone into the sky with the stars and that she’s an angel now. But you are going to bring her back, right?” Philippa was staring at him with wide eyes, waiting for the answer she though thought would be negative. Eames knew that kids understood way more than adults were willing to admit. But it didn't mean they didn't need to have some oral confirmation of what they sensed.

Eames put her down and as he was about to answer, Dom came into view. “We’ve talked about this already kids. Uncle Eames’s here to talk with daddy, so go and play upstairs, hum?”  
The children reluctantly complied, but not without making the Englishman promise first that he’d come and play with them later. The two adults settled in the living room where they wouldn’t be disturbed by the kids but could still keep an eye –or rather an ear- upon them. They stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, and Eames noticed that some [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzeLynj1GYM) was playing in the background. It was a French song from a French singer Mal lo...  _had_ loved. He didn't have the courage to ask Dom to turn it off, so he just tried to ignore it. He focused his attention on him and decided to let him speak when he was ready.

“I guess you’re here to ask me questions about Mal?” Dom looked truly devastated, yet oddly resigned though it had not even yet been a day. Maybe having children was forcing him to move on…  
“Yes, I know it’s hard and perhaps you don’t want to talk about it now, but if we want it to be over as soon as possible, you know we can’t afford to lose even one day…”  
Dom’s old suspicions towards the Forger came back. “Well  _I_  do know this, though how  _you_  do is a wonder to me. Last time I checked, you were a salesman working worldwide, not a cop, or a private-eye, or…”  
“Do you really think it matters right now?" Eames angrily interrupted him." I’ve been designed official consultant for this case, by Arthur himself. And you're the one who gave him full authority. So everything I do is legal, at least currently.” he grinned meanly. "Now back to business."

Dom sighed. It wasn't the time, nor the place to fight with the shady Englishman. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s so hard, and I’m so tired, I’ve got to watch over the kids every second and… What were the questions you wanted to ask me? The usual I suppose?”  
Eames took a notepad and a pen out of his pocket. “Yes Chief, the usual.”

“Well as far as I know, she had no enemies, apart from mine, and in this case the list is very long. Basically, all the guys I ever arrested or investigated on, and probably a few insane people, now that I’m a  _big fish_. Last time I saw her was…” Dom had to pause, tears already blurring his vision and his voice cracking.

“Take your time, we’ve got all day…” Eames took pity on him and tried to comfort him, but the widow emitted a small snort. “No we don’t, you've said so yourself. So last time I saw her, it was yesterday morning, in our kitchen, she was taking care of the children’s lunch. Then I went to work and it was a busy day, I had a lot of paperwork so I went home late. I asked the receptionist, Miss Mines, to call home and tell I wouldn’t be there for dinner. When I came home, Mal wasn’t there.”

Eames raised an eyebrow “And didn’t that worry you?”

“No, because whenever I called to say I’d come home late, she used to go out with some friends or ladies from her gardening club. She’d leave the children at the neighbors’ and go to the cinema, or go to dance… And I thought that this night would be one of these nights, that I’d find her sleeping by my side in the morning, but…” He fought the tears and sniffed loudly. “I must be strong for the kids” he said, as though saying it out loud was the only way he could do it.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. Just, when exactly did you come back home?” Though he didn't like him, Eames couldn't help sharing his sorrow.  
“Around midnight?”  
“Thank you Dom, whenever you feel you’re ready, you’ll be welcome on the case.” And Eames was surprised, because when the words crossed his lips, he knew he meant them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_6.35 p.m._

After having played with the kids, Eames had done some research on the potential ennemies he and Mal -and Arthur- could have made in the past. After a few hours, he gave up: all his sources were telling him that not one had been spotted near Chicago for at least three years. And the possibility of one having hired some bloke to do the dirty job was very feable. Having come up with nothing, he decided to go and see if his Darling had been luckier.  Once at the staion, he went straight to Arthur’s office and found him working just as expected. His desk was covered with files and sheets of paper.

“Found anything interesting, love?” he grinned, though according to the look he got, he could guess the answer was no...  
“Don’t call me that here…" Oh, so the look was for his little endearment. "Well as it happens, yes. But you first, have you got something?"  
Eames sighed. "No. I've spent hours researching old foes that are quite resentful and don't mind getting their hands dirty. But nothing. Not a single clue. As for Dom, well he was pretty useless, as you can imagine. I'll put what he told me on the board later, but I guess it won't help much..."

"Well, I found out that Mr. Cobol is, in fact, our dear Hirohito Saito.”

Eames’ eyes widened. “So you’re saying the hotel in which Mal was belongs to Saito, the first man that come to mind when we think about the Cobb’s enemies?" Eames excited tone then became rather sceptic. "I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but don’t you think it’s a bit… too easy? I mean, First Fisher comes and tells you his story, and then this.”

Arthur rushed his hand through his hair. “I know, I thought that too, in the beginning. But I had one of the guys call Fisher to ask him when he’d be ready to testify…”  
Eames snorted“Let me guess: he denies everything he ever told you?”

Arthur sighed and passed his hand through his already rumpled hair. “Yes. And, I don’t know, maybe Saito did this to spite us; to prove us that he’s stronger than us and we’ll never be able to put him behind the bars… He's made Fisher retract himself, and now he kills Mal. He wanted to teach us a lesson and to show we’re vulnerable?"  
"Isn’t it a bit risky, even for him?”

They both sounded doubtfull, but it was the most interesting thing they'd had all day. They needed some hope, because even though it hadn't been a full day yet, it felt like they had been vainly moving heaven and earth to find the truth about their friend's death.

“Let’s imagine that initially he just planned to beat her and scare her, but things went wrong and she passed through the window? Honestly, it’s possible. He’s not one known for making mistakes, but this time we’d really come close to him, he was in a hurry…”

The Forger exhaled loudly and sat on the corner of the desk. “I think it’s time for us to go in the street, don’t you think? We need to find evidence that Saito was responsible for all of this, and if possible, to turn Fisher against him.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair. “You’re most likely right, I tried to phone a few of my contacts, but no one’s seen anything…”

Eames handed him his coat and hat. “Come on, Mr. Pendry, we won’t achieve anything from here, it’s time we do things my way.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_November _28 th _1951, 11 p.m. _  
__

The [sound of music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZs_mEonP88) and people chatting was loud in the smoky room. The man in the purple suit strode right to the barman. He had been coming here the last three nights to take a drink with a friend, but tonight he was alone.

“Hey there mate, I hear there is a… quieter place, where good games can be played, if you see what I mean…” the man said in a thick British accent, winking unsubtly and giving a 50 dollars bill. The barman took the bill and looked him up. Probably another rich dick from the old continent who thought he’d have some fun where no one new mommy and daddy. He wasn't surprised, actually, the man had been getting on his nerves these last few days, now he knew why. But he certainly had some money, and he looked as though he could easily been taken care of, if need be… And anyway, the Boss shouldn’t come tonight… Without a word, he pointed to a door at the right end of the bar. The man raised his hat at him in thanks and winked another time. Dumbass…

 

*** 

 

The quietness of the dimly lit room was only interrupted by the sound of the men breathing and smoking. The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife, though the Englishman hoped the night would end up without any literal knife being brandished.

After several nights of coming here only to drink, and most of all to familiarise himself with the place, it was finally time actually do something. They hadn't managed to gather any interesting information so far, but after a tense game people always spoke more easily. Arthur had wanted to come, but Eames had refused. They had fought, and shouted. A few plates and glasses had been broken, insults had been yelled, but in the end, Eames had won. And he was looking forward to make-up sex session that was yet to come -no pun intended.  

Eames had made sure he won enough games to be considered a worthy opponent by the regular players, but lost enough not to be seen as a threat. Between games, he had managed to befriend a few blokes who, mislead by the false sense of security provided by a few strong drinks, had confided some interesting stories to him. One of them, named Paolo, was actually high-ranked amongst Saito’s men. Eames had managed to subtly bring the subject of Mal’s death.

“Heard ‘bout the death of the Commissioner’s wife. Think it’s good for business?” he hadn't bothered to be subtle, the man was dead-drunk.

“Naaa” slurred Paolo. He came closer to Eames who tried, without seeming to, to turn his head away from the horrid breath of the fat man. “This Chief Cobb, he’s got somethin’ against my boss. He’s tried more than once to lock him up, but he’s never managed, ‘cause my boss’s that clever! Even the  _Great Dominic Cobb_  can’t have him!” The man raised his glass and gulped down what was left in it. Eames mimicked him and hummed in appreciation so that the man would keep on talking.

“But this time,  _Mr. Cobb_  had a… witness, ready to testify against Mr. Saito. Thank god though, the guy changed his mind... With a little help, if you see what I mean." Paolo laughed a bit. "So everything was great but here, pam! The bitch jumps from the window of Mr. Saito’s hotel!” Eames’s fist tightened around his empty glass when he heard the fat vulgar man calling his deceased friend a bitch. Instead of punching the man right in the nose like all his instincts told him to do, he enquired if the man thought she had committed suicide. She was, after all, a beloved mother and the wife of a powerful man…  
“Dunno maybe she was sick of being married to an asshole? Anyway, what I know is that we had nothin' to do with it and now the cops are all over the place, putting their big noses in our business.”

After this conversation, Eames had tried to gather information on Saito’s schedule, but he couldn’t learn much without raising suspicion. Eventually, the night was getting old and he resigned himself to having to come back another evening, hopefully when Saito was there.

***

When he entered their small but cosy flat, Arthur was still up, reading some files, settled in an armchair. The Englishman came closer and the brunette raised his head, slight dimples appearing on his face.

“Hey, did you find anything interesting?” Apparently, the Englishman was fully forgotten and the fight was behind them. He smiled, climbed on his lover's lap and wrapped his hands around the back of his head. Then he proceeded to kiss his Darling softly on the eyes, on the nose, and then twice more heatedly on the mouth. But when he was starting to really get into the mood, Arthur pushed him back with one hand and pointedly looked at him.  
Eames sighed and went to sit on the coffee table in front of the armchair. Then he told him everything he had learnt that night.

“So according to this Paolo guy, Saito isn’t responsible for Mal’s death?”  
Eames nodded “That’s what he said, yes. But I want to confirm it myself… I mean, this guy may be near the top, but he isn’t the boss, and there are some things he doesn’t know.”  
“So what, you want to ask Saito directly if he’s killed Mal?” When the Forger remained silently standing arms crossed in front of him, Arthur laughed nervously and jumped to his feet.

“You’re crazy, you know that? You’re just a fucking mad Englishman! Do you realize what could, no what  _will_  happen when Saito discovers you work for the CPD? And that is, of course, if he doesn’t already know and lets you come close enough to talk to him. And what, are you planning on asking him bluntly ‘I’m sorry to disturb sir, but would you happen, by any chance, to have killed Mrs. Mallorie Cobb?’ I always knew you were a bit of a nutcase but this, this is sheer madness!” Arthur was almost yelling when he finished his sentence. He was running his hands in his hair and his eyes were wild. Eames held out his arms to him and cradled him. Arthur let his arms fall limp against his side while his lover rubbed gently his temples.

“What’s going on, darling? I’ve made more dangerous things, you know it, you even were with me for some of them. So what’s the matter?” he gently whispered to him, trying to comfort him.  
“I’ve lost her, I feel I’m losing Dom and I’m scared I’ll lose you too.” Arthur sounded tired, exhausted. Eames had never seen him in this state.  
“Hush, don’t worry baby, if he really hasn’t done anything, he’ll be more than glad to tell me he’s innocent. That way, I’ll keep him out of trouble. And how so, you feel you’re losing Dom?”

Arthur stayed quiet for a couple of minutes. It was oblivious difficult for him to get this out, but Eames felt that he had to. He shouldn't keep nasty things in him, rotting in his mind.

“I got him on the phone a few hours ago, and I never heard him sound so devastated. And I was at the funeral of both his parents. It’s like he’s losing it, losing control of himself. Marie and Peter are supposed to arrive tomorrow morning, but in the meantime, don’t you think the children should be with their father? He left them at the neighbor’s! And he talked about things, about dreams, and ideas and… He sounded completely insane to me. And I’m his best friend. I’m afraid Mal’s death fucked him up.”

“He was always fucked up, after all he married her...” To Eames, all of this was old news. Arthur had an immense faith in this man. He wasn't jealous, because Eames knew you couldn't control faith. That was what made it beautiful: to strongly believe without proofs. He too, had faith. Faith in Arthur, which had turned into a very deep trust. And faith in Mal too, but this one was over.

“Don’t joke about it Eames, I’m serious.”

“And so am I, darling. I think you’ve always admired Dom. You were blinded by his charm and his vivid personality. He’s what you’ve always wished to be. But if you want my opinion, he wasn’t your friend; he was more like an idol of sort. But lately, you’ve seen an aspect of him you didn’t like and which opened your eyes on the fact that’s he’s only a human being. He’s always been one, but you’ve only realised it now.”

Arthur closed his eyes and buried his face in Eames’s chest, thus clearly indicating this conversation was over. Eames got the message and gently led them to the bedroom. He put a [song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLh-m1Z_feY) he knew would calm Arthur and remind him he wasn't alone in this. They took their clothes off and let them scattered on the ground, and then they slid under the sheets. They cuddled close to each other, taking comfort in the other’s scent and warmth. It wasn't what Eames had in mind earlier, but it was good too.

 

 ***

On the other side of the city, Paolo was having some troubles explaining to his boss why he had been blabbering about the business to a stranger. Nash was standing in the corner of the richly furnished office, mentally snickering at the ridiculous fat man squirming under the gaze of the Boss.

It was by sheer luck -well, or unluck, depending on which side you were on-, that Nash had spotted Paolo speaking to an odd Englishman earlier tonight. Englishman whom he had immediately recognized: Eames, complete name unknown, also called 'the Forger'. And this man was friend with Mallorie Cobb, the Police Chief's wife. And of course, all the city was aware of the fact that Mrs Cobb had died a few days ago in tragical circumstances...

So when Nash had seen Paolo and the Forger, he thought that the man was gathering some information on the number one suspect, Saito. And Paolo was dumb enough to spill all his, or rather his boss' secrets. Nash guessed Mr Saito wouldn't be too fond of such... indiscretion. And Nash was just seeking a higher position...

Thankfully, Mr. Saito had a late meeting appointed with Paolo tonight. The perfect occasion. 

“Do you think, Paolo, that it was wise of you to confide secrets to this Englishman?” the mob boss asked, hands crossed on his desk, looking very serious.

“No of course not, Mr. Saito. But I can take care of it, I assure you. I remember his face, and I know people, I will find him.” His hands were sweaty but he daren’t dry them on his pants, fearing to anger Saito further. He thought it was a bit like when you were faced with a wild beast: they could feel your fear and were made even more aggressive by it.

“There is no use. I will personally take care of this business.” Saito waved his hand and a goon that had been standing still behind all this time came beside him. “See him out.”

Paolo knew what this meant. He began to beg, to cry, but Saito didn’t budge. When the door closed, Nash stood in front of the desk.

“I always knew he was a weakling!" he spit "Have you thought about someone to take his place?” The scrawny man raised a shining eyebrow, which made Saito wonder how one’s eyebrow could even get this greasy.

“I have not. I didn’t think an… incident like this would happen. But I know I want a strong-willed man, capable to obey and be obeyed. A man who shows respect to me and his colleagues, and most of all who won’t  _betray_ his brothers.” Nash felt a cold shiver running up his spine. He gulped soundly but didn’t manage to speak. He had made a mistake, a big mistake. Without adding another word, Saito waved his hand anew, and the second goon caught Nash’s arm.

The scrawny man was petrified. He knew his fate was sealed, just like Paolo’s, the man he had betrayed. He didn’t beg, nor did he cry. He was silently dragged by the large man in the black suit. Behind them, the door closed softly, without making a noise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, the names have a meaning.  
> Ariadne is 'Miss Mines' because in Greek mythlogy, she's the daughter of Minos  
> Arthur is 'Mr Pendry' because of Arthur Pendragon, of course  
> The cops too (because else it's too easy):  
> Jim is Jim Gordon (from TDKR), John is John Blake (also from TDKR)  
> Kevin and Xavier are Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito from Castle  
> and Frankie is from Rizzoli&Isles  
> But it won't have any effect on the story, they are just minor characters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget what I said about British and American english, I'm just confused, so sorry for the mix!  
> Just one more chapter to go after this one!  
> Little bonus song:  
> [Faithful Man by Lee Fields](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=514dGlTDtA4)
> 
> It's the song that originally inspired this fic. It's not a 50's song, but I loved the atmosphere and it inspired me. The title comes from it (and no, it's not a mistake, I really meant _men_ and not _man_  
>  Enjoy!

 

      _The body of man was discovered this morning in Eastbridge Port, near the hotel where Mrs. Mallorie Cobb was found dead, almost a week ago. It appears the man had been severely beaten up and succumbed to his injuries, though the Police has yet no clue on when the beating occurred.  
_ _When asked if the two murders are linked, Second Chief Arthur Pendry declared that “so far, the investigations haven’t enabled [them] to reach such conclusions, though the CPD will do its best to clarify these cases soon.” In the meantime, he wanted to reassure the population by stating that “these murders are not the work of a serial killer”, thus implying that the population has nothing to fear.  
_ _Settling of scores in the mob? Blackmail or affair turned wrong? Or work of a serial killer, despite the CPD’s statement? Only time and the continuing of the investigations will tell us what has _already__ cost the lives of two persons…

* * *

 

_December 1 rst 1951, 11.30 p.m._

 

     It was already December and the chill in the air, as well as the drizzle that had been falling since the early morning, were there to make sure everybody remembered it. The man raised his raincoat’s collar and buried his head in his shoulders. It was bloody cold outside, and if he stayed outside without moving one minute more, he’d freeze to death. He hastily finished his smoke and got into the bar. It was less crowded than it had been the four last evenings.

He nodded to the barman who nodded back and gestured for him to come. Tonight, the [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHh3BUR7tbM) was very soft so Eames didn't have to strain to hear him over it.  
“No silly things today, boss’ here.” He said with a knowing look. Then he went back to drying the glass he had in his hands, as if nothing had happened.  
Eames raised an eyebrow in interest and softly thanked the man. The barman didn’t like him, he was sure of it. He wondered why, then, he would be kind enough to warn him. Maybe he didn’t want some punch-up to alert the coppers… He shrugged his thoughts away and made a bee line for the almost hidden door at the right end of the counter.

 When he closed the door behind him, he made eye-contact with a man seated at a table in the corner. He instantly knew that this man was Saito, and that he had been made.

 

The couple of times he'd come back to the poker den after the first evening, Paolo wasn’t there anymore. He knew it meant something had gone wrong, but he thought it would be more suspicious to suddenly stop coming so he had asked where the bloke was, and when all he got were elusive answers, he had dropped it.

Then they had found this man’s body near the hotel where Mal died. Apparently, his name was Nash and he was a known associate of Saito. Eames had immediately recognised his face: he had been watching him and Paolo chatting the other night. He was sure it couldn’t be a coincidence, but he hadn’t managed to find how all of these deaths –Mal’s and Nash’s, and probably Paolo's too (in the current events, the disappearance of the man wasn't a good sign, though his body hadn’t been found yet) - could be linked. And once again, his intuition had been right. Saito’s presence was there to show it.

 

Knowing it would have been useless and even dangerous to try and run away, he directly strode to the man. As soon as he came close, the other players left the table and the Englishman found himself alone with the mob’s boss.

“I have been waiting for you, Mr. Eames. Please, take a seat.” The man said, gesturing to a chair in front of him.

“Just Eames is enough.” The man said, casually sitting in the chair his interlocutor had showed him. He wasn’t really surprised that he already knew his name. He was a powerful man, and to be fair, Eames had rather been careless (even reckless) lately, he hadn’t even tried to hide his tracks.

 “Very nice to meet you, _Mr._ Eames. I see you are a man of many talents. I have done a little research on you, and to be fair I was amazed: I found almost nothing. Luckily, you did not take much precautions these last few days. I am a little disappointed, but I assume the loss of your friend made you...reckless." Saito paused for a moment. Eames didn't know what to do. Apparently, not speaking and just waiting was the correct answer.    
"I also hear you are interested in my potential implication in Mrs. Cobb tragic death.” He could see Saito was a clever man, used to deal with people who wanted to scam him. It would do him no good to lie. Especially since the man already knew most of the things that matter.

“Indeed I am. She was a very good friend of mine, and I want to find out what exactly happened to her.”

“And what are you thus seeking? If you discover she was, in fact, murdered, will truth satisfy you or will you need to see her death avenged? And if it proves to be that she actually committed suicide, will you blame yourself for not having seen it coming?”

The man’s stare was piercing and for the first time in years, the Forger felt nude and vulnerable. Once again, he opted for the truth.

“I don’t know. One can never know until they’ve been faced with the situation, can they? But to be honest, if it happens she actually was murdered, I might want to… take care of the murderer.” He said those words while staring Saito right in the eye, making sure the man knew he was not intimidated, even if it wasn’t entirely true.

A few seconds of tensed silence followed, until Saito suddenly burst into laughter. Then as suddenly as he had started, he stopped and looked deadly derious all over again.

“I like you, Mr. Eames. I can feel you are a man of honor and it is rare, nowadays. And as I said earlier, I rather admire your talents. So let’s make a deal: you accept to do a little job for me, and in exchange I’ll help you finding out the truth about your friend. Obviously, this doesn’t mean anything to you if you think I killed her. So I promise you I had nothing to do with it. I couldn’t physically be there because I was attending a bal at the other end of the city. I could of course have paid someone, but I didn’t, and I fear you’ll have to trust me on this. So, what do you think, Mr. Eames? Will you take a leap of faith?”

The Englishman stayed silent and observed him carefully. He believed him. He couldn't say exactly why, but he was convinced that Saito said the truth was he said he _hadn't killed_ Mal. Everything in the man’s body language indicated he was telling the truth: he was relaxed, arms opened. And of course, those could be learnt. Eames himself had learnt those tricks. But something more told him Saito was being truthful. The same thing that told him that the mob boss knew more than he had said...

“What is this job you want me to do?”

 

“It is but a small task I am asking from you. I’ve heard of you only in elogious terms, when it comes to your… working abilities, so to speak.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, Mr. Saito.”

The man chuckled, though if it was by sheer amusement or feigned friendliness, the Forger wasn’t sure.

“I’m quite convinced it won’t, Mr. Eames. But it wasn’t meant as flattery, it was more of a statement which explains why I want your help. Now if you’ll let me finish, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.” Saito’s former smiling face was now wearing a severe and almost angry expression. The man didn’t like to be interrupted, it seemed.

“Very well, Mr. Saito.” Eames agreed, a very serious face on but grinning inside.

Saito threw him a dark annoyed glare, then he went on, as if uninterrupted.

“Lately, several of my businesses have been closed, and many of my business partners have been arrested, and some imprisoned. I found it eerie, how all of this could have happened so I’ve led a little investigation. What I found was of very outrageous nature: someone has been forging false proofs and charges to try and stop my business!” Saito punched the table with his fist and almost rose from his chair. Then, as if nothing had happened, he calmed down and resumed his little speech.

“I know for sure that the incriminating proofs were fake, but I’m not quite sure this was the case for the official paper. This is where you come in: I want you to take a look at these papers and tell me whether or not they were forged. And if so, who could have forged them.”

Eames scratched his chin for a couple a seconds. “And what happens if they were not, in fact, forged? Of if they were forged, but I’m not able to identify the author?”

Saito laughed slightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Eames, you’re the one who’s called ‘the Forger’, are you not? You’ll find out. And if you don’t, let’s just say you’ll owe me for helping you resolving your friend’s murder…”

Then Saito clapped his hands and two goons came out of nowhere, indicating to Eames that it was his cue to leave. When he was back in the main room of the bar, the Englishman shivered. This guy wasn’t one of the biggest fish of the city for nothing. And something told him he didn’t want to be indebted to him.

When he was in the cold air of the night, he realized Saito hadn’t given him any meeting point or file to work on. Then he shrugged and walked towards his and Arthur’s cosy nest, thinking that with all the power he had, Saito would be able to contact him when he needed him. 

 

* * *

 

  _December 2nd 1951, 8.30 a.m._

 

The next day, when he arrived at the police station, an envelope was waiting for him on the table that served as his desk. When he asked around to know who had brought it, no one could answer. It seemed that the envelope had just materialised itself in the morning, because it wasn’t there and suddenly it was. When the guys enquired if an investigation was needed, Eames responded that no, it wasn’t, it was a joke from an old friend.

If Arthur had been there, he would have known that Eames had no ‘old friend’, at least none that would do such a thing. He would have seen that under his cheerful mask, Eames was in fact rather ill at ease. He would have found a bit surprising that his lover, usually so secret and careful, opened the envelope right there, for everyone to see. And of course, he would have been worried when, after a quick examination of a paper contained by the mysterious envelope, Eames’s face had went to ‘cheerful and intrigued’ to ‘sheer anger’. Because if the Forger’s face showed anger, it meant that inside, he was boiling with cold rage.

But Arthur wasn’t there.

 

 

***

  

Arthur was, as he had explained to his lover, trying to prevent his best friend from falling apart.

Before there had been Eames, there had been nothing. As far as he could remember, Arthur had always been alone. In school, at home, even before his parents died and he joined the army, he had always been a lone wolf. There were people around him, of course. Lots of people even, especially in the army, but not a single soul had managed to reach under his protection’s shell of stiffness and snide comments. Until that one day, when he met _him_. From that day on, they had been together. Always bickering, fighting, bantering, touching, smiling, speaking... But then, Arthur’s time with the military was over, he was 21, he had done the two years he had signed up for, and had now to choose between a life in this tight confined and restrictive environment or freedom. He chose freedom. Two months later, the U.S. officially entered in war, it was December the 8th, 1941. And Arthur was glad he was done with the military.

He didn’t want to leave the man he considered to be his soul-mate, his sole and only friend, the only human being he had ever loved, and that had loved him in return. But Eames had told him the truth some time ago, and when the forger-thief-pretending-to-be-a-British-soldier had gathered all the data he had been hired to steal, he flew away with him. Two birds just set free from their cage into the big wide world.

And then there was Mal, so bright and lively. She was Eames’ best friend and sun. He would have been jealous of her, if she hadn’t been his sun too. They worked together for a few months, until she decided he should be a police officer. It would give him a job in case things turned sour to them, and he could help them if need be. He didn’t dislike the idea, so he agreed.

And then there was Dom, his first friend and then best friend. He introduced him to Mal, and they ‘clicked’. Then there was Pippa and James, there was a family.

But now this family, _his_ family was falling apart, quickly crumbling away. Mal was dead, Dom was crying all day and blaming himself for what had happened, and the children were in the middle of the storm, trying to understand what was happening.

It was Arthur’s job to make sure everything evolved smoothly. Finding out the truth about Mal’s death was very important, of course, but Eames took care of it, and Arthur trusted him more than anyone else. Eames was strong, Dom wasn’t. Dom needed him more than Eames right now. Or so he thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_December 3rd 1951, 12.25 p.m._

It was already past midnight, and Eames was alone in their flat. The documents of the envelope he had received this morning were spread on the coffee table in the living room. His hair was askew and his shirt was rumpled. There was a dozen of tooth picks lying broken on the floor all around his feet. He had been sitting on his chair for a couple of hours now, always trying to look at the papers from a different angle, trying to change the outcome of his examination, but always failing. In-between two examinations, he would pass his hands through his hair, a desperate look on his face. He would then stand up, pace nervously, chew a tooth-pick, and then throw it on the floor while sitting back.

Eventually he resigned himself: no matter how many times he’d look at it, it wouldn’t change anything. He leaned back on his armchair and emitted a low distressed whine. The anger he had felt when he’d first realised what he had between his hands had now been replaced by dread and a feeling of emptiness. He felt lost, and as if his world was collapsing around him.

One last time, he leant towards the table. He glanced at the papers, then he reached under them and took a photograph. The quality wasn’t very good, but the people on it could clearly be identified. A man, and a woman, arm in arm, in front of _the_ hotel. And a second man, in the background, barely visible, smoking behind a window. He let a ragged breath escape him, and turned the picture in his hand. He re-read the message that was written.

“Here is my contribution to your investigation. S.”

With a loud growl, Eames threw the picture on the table. He had never felt like this in his whole life. He needed to see Arthur, needed to speak to him, to ask him if he had any explanation. But he wasn’t here. He hadn’t seen him since this morning, and he didn’t know where he was…

Then Englishman rose to his feet, took his coat and hat and left the flat.

 

 ***

 

Arthur closed the bedroom’s door quietly and went downstairs to make himself a cup of tea, more out of habit than real want. Living with a tea-addict (otherwise known as ‘Englishman’) would do that to you. When he entered the kitchen, he took a glance at the clock. Already 1 o’clock.  
“Shit” he muttered to himself. He hadn’t told Eames that he was staying all day at Dom's and he hadn’t called him. It was too late now, the man was probably already asleep since he most likely had had a very long day. He’d wake up early tomorrow morning, that way he’d be able to go to the police station, see how the investigation was going, and then go back to Dom’s, all of this before his friend woke up, if he was lucky.

He settled on the couch, and as he tried to find some rest, he pictured himself lying next to Eames in their warm bed. He fell asleep to the thought of strong arms holding him and to the hope of better days.

 

 ***

 

Meanwhile, Eames was sitting on a bar stool, drinking a double whisky. The room smelled of rancid sweat, cold tobacco and beer; it was chilly and eerily quiet without all the people that usually crowded it. He had been chatting for a while with his friend now. He had to be at the police station in 5 hours if he wanted to take care of a few things, without being seen and raising suspicions. He would probably get no sleep tonight. He drank a few gulps from his drink. He had asked his friend to put some [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqE542h5ZFY) on, for he didn't trust his thoughts, they had already taken him too far away...

 

Eames had told his old friend what he had discovered. He had shared with him the questions and doubts that had appeared, the sadness and anger that now inhabited him, and the feeling of betrayal which blurred his thinking. He turned to his friend to clear his mind when the one he needed the most wasn’t here.

 “Do you think Arthur could kill someone he loves to protect someone he loves more?” the Englishman asked in a tiny voice. At this moment, his friend saw in front of him the scrawny little boy he had met in India, all those years ago.

“Knowing what I know about him… Yes he could.”

“And where do I stand in his affections?” the Englishman looked like a beaten puppy. Or a puppy which had been abondoned by his master.

“You’re on the top. Without a doubt, you’re the person for whom he’ll kill an entire country. And this is something you shouldn’t ever doubt.” As if his friend hadn’t spoken, Eames continued his rambling.

“And where is Dom? Where was Mal?” Yusuf didn’t know what to reply. Eames looked at him, finished his glass in one gulp and put it back loudly on the counter.

 

 ***

_7.25 a.m._

In the morning, when Eames came to the Police station, there was another file waiting for him on his desk. His heart stopped. “What’s this?” he asked to Jim, who despite the hour was already working at his desk. Judging by the state of his clothes, Eames guessed he hadn’t left the station at all.

“It’s the forensics’ report.” the man answered, supressing a yawn.

Eames frowned. “But we’ve already had it… They said there were traces that could either result from a fight or from the fall, but that anyway, the cause of death was the fall. What’s new?”

“I dunno” Jim shrugged “guy told me it could be important. Something to do with the white powder we found in the room.”

“The white powder _we_ found in the room? Are you talking about cocaine?” Eames was surprised. No one had told him that some powder had been found and was being analysed until a few hours ago. “Who found it?”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Kevin did, when Mr. Pendry asked him and Xavier to go search the room more thoroughly. He went straight to him and Mr. Pendry told him to give it to the forensics to have it tested. He didn’t tell you?...”

The Englishman shook his head “Yeah, yeah he told me actually. It’s just, we’ve got so much work and so little sleep, I forgot. Sorry mate, thanks for the file.”

Arthur hadn't, in fact told him. Though if it was intentionnal or if he had genuinely forgotten, Eames didn't know. Because at this point of the case, after the things he had discovered... This wasn't a good line of thoughts.

He took a look at the file, just to be sure: it was indeed cocaine. Though how had it ended there? He knew just the man who could tell him, though before he had to go check something in Cobb’s office.

 

 ***

 

Dom had asked him to go fetch some documents in his office. Arthur hadn’t wanted to bring them to him, he would have liked for him to at last get out of his bedroom, but he knew it already was a big improvement that his friend was thinking about something else than his sorrow, so he had agreed to bring them. Just when he was about to grab the handle, the door of the Chief's office opened and Eames got out.

He seemed as surprised as Arthur to see him there. “Darl… Arthur, what a pleasure to see you! Have you spent a lovely night?”

Arthur cringed at Eames’ tone and question. Though the man looked happy to see him, he knew that he actually was crossed at him for not having warned him that he wouldn’t come home the night before.

“I’m sorry, Eames. I meant to call you but…” he started, but Eames interrupted him. “No need to apologise Arthur! You’re a big boy, you’re free to use your time how you deem fit! And we’re not married, are we?”

Eames last remark went straight to Arthur’s heart. “No, indeed, we’re not. What were you doing in Chief Cobb’s office?”

The Englishman knew he had hurt the younger man with his last words. But he was still pissed at the man, and he didn’t care. For now, because he was certain that he’d regret it in a couple minutes. Before guilt took over, he decided to work his way out of this discussion.

“I’ve just received the results of the analysis of the white powder. It was cocaine, and I searched Dom’s files to gather everything I could on the dealers of the area.”

Arthur crossed his arms and his eyebrows creased in their famous frown. “This kind of data is not stored in Dom’s office…”

Eames took an innocent look. “Oh really? That explains why I didn’t find them there. Well, with this I’ll be off! Got some trails to…trail. Bye!” And without glancing back, he strode away.

“Wait, Eames!” Some officers turned their head to him, but Eames didn’t stop. Arthur felt his cheeks turn red and quickly entered Cobb’s office. Once inside he took a look around. Eames perfectly knew no information of that type were stored in a Police Chief’s office. Arthur rewound the scene in his head. Hadn’t Eames been holding some papers behind his back? Arthur shook his head, as though it could help him getting rid of the idea. He was tired, he hadn’t slept enough and he was starting to turn paranoid. He sighed and began to search for the documents Dom had asked for. Some blank charges paper or something... Though as for the informations Eames was looking for, those papers weren't supposed to be there and Arthur had no clue why Dom had told him he would find them here... Nor did he know why the man needed them...

 

 

* * *

 

 

_8.30 a.m._

 

Eames was introduced in Saito’s office by some goons. They looked exactly the same as those from the last time, but Eames wasn’t sure they actually were the same person. “Are you all brothers or something?” he asked, but the men didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Mr. Eames, what a pleasure to see you! I gather you have something for me? Did you find my little…contribution useful for your investigation?” Saito was slightly grining and this angered Eames even more than he already was. Was he making fun of him? The man apparently knew what had happended that night. Had known from the beginning, but hadn't bothered to say it out right.

“Have you heard of a cocaine’s dealer operating in your hotel?” the Forger asked, while seating in the chair on the opposite of Saito’s own armchair.

“You are very audacious to speak to me like this, without even answering my questions, in my own office, Mr. Eames.” Eames wouldn't indulge him in any way, and Saito had guessed it, that's probably why the man had turned from happy-and-smug to don't-fuck-with-me-I'm-crossed in less than one second.

Eames sighed “I studied the charges you gave me. I even found some documents to corroborate my hypothesis. As for your lovely picture, it raised more questions than it answered. Now please, tell me what you know about dealings in your hotel.”

“May I ask why you are interested in such a thing? You want information on something very…business related, I am entitled to know why, exactly.” Saito believed in treating his business partners well, to get the most out of them. He hadn't played the first few minutes of this meeting cleverly. Now he had decided to give the man what he wanted to, in return, get what  _he_ wanted.

The Englishman who had tried so far to irritate Saito to speed up the meeting decided to regain some seriousness. Playing the arsehole wouldn’t get him anywhere with this man. And he had noticed the shift in his interlocutor's behaviour. He relaxed and told him what was necessary to gain his help.

“Some cocaine was found on the crime scene. I know for a fact that Mal would never, under any circumstances, have taken, bought or sold drugs. So I’m asking you: is there any chance that the finding of this substance hasn’t anything to do with the murder?”

They stared each other right in the eye for a couple of minutes, then Saito began to speak.

 

[“The wife of the man who has sworn to have me behind the bars was murdered, in one of my hotels, just when some serious elements on my illegal activities were about to be brought to light. I know you walk mostly on the other side of the law, just like me, so I’ll do you a favor and tell you only the truth.” Saito paused, as if waiting for something. Eames nodded to him thus acknowledging what the man had just said.

“As of late, someone has been causing troubles to my business. The man is called Peter Browning. He is a very important drug dealer and Robert Fisher’s godfather. I met him and Robert during a dinner where he was supposed to sell all his stocks to me. But at the last moment, he said he’d rather keep things the way they were. As time went by, his business grew bigger, and now he’s behind all the drug dealing of this city. His power is becoming too important, and I tried to trap him by ordering one of my men to spy on him.”

Eames crossed his arms “Your story is very interesting, but does it have to do with Mal’s death?”

Saito sighed “You are not a patient man, are you?”

Eames grinned wolfishly “Depends on what I have to wait for…”

Saito ignored him and went on.

“I had heard of Mrs. Cobb’s past, just as I’ve heard of yours. I asked her to form a team with Nash, my spy, and to steal some incriminating evidence against Browning.”

“And she accepted, because she was bored and that Cobb could gain some glory over this arrest.”

“Exactly! I see you knew your friend well! But things went wrong, and they were made.”

“So you’re telling me that Browning, the man you’d like to see in prison, committed this murder in your hotel?” Eames couldn't keep the sceptism out of his voice. The truth about his friend's death was just there, but the man couldn't prevent himself from telling tales. Eames was tired, he just wanted the facts.

“No.” Saito snapped. “Will you stop interrupting me? This happened months ago. Browning knew his hands were tied, he couldn’t do anything without being suspect number one. I couldn’t tell you what happened the night your friend died, though I can tell you how the cocaine arrived on the crime scene. Nash thought it would be a good idea to place it here. That way, during the investigation Browning’s name would come up, Mrs. Cobb’s involvement in his business would be known and he’d be charged for the murder.”

Eames waited to see if Saito had finished before he spoke. “So this Nash bloke placed to cocaine to incriminate Browning? And could I meet him, just to ask him a couple questions.” Eames knew it wouldn't be possible, Nash's body was lying cold in the morgue of the Police sation. But he wanted to see how Saito would react to this.

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible. Mr. Nash left us in tragic circumstances a few days ago. He had done some...undignified things, that required a swift punishment. I fear he didn't survive said punishment.”

“Very well… And about the picture you gave me…”

Saito tutted him. “I think it’s my turn to have some answers Mr. Eames.”

Eames sighed, took a folder out of his coat and put it on Saito’s desk.

“They’re genuine. All of them, here are the blank ones, strictly identical that I found in Cobb’s office.”

“It is then Mr. Cobb that I have to thank for these false charges?” Saito’s gaze had hardened.

“Yes. Well technically another person could be responsible for them, but I know this person and there is absolutely no way they did it.”

“Are you talking about Mr. Arthur Pendry?”

It was Eames’ face turn to harden. “Leave him out of this.” He growled. "If you dare say one thing, just  _one thing_ about him, I'll..." Eames was boiling in his seat. All the tiredness, anger, disappointment, betrayal and sorrow he had felt these last few days had melted into one huge ball of fire that threatened to explode if Saito dared to insinuate something else. To try and calm himself, the Forger was clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap. His knuckles had turned white and his cheek was now bleeding where he had been biting it to stop himself from insulting the man.

Saito grinned meanly. "You'll what, Mr. Eames? Are you as blinded as your lover is? Remember what this blindness cost him and your  _friends_..." Saito spit the last word as if it was filthy. "They do look very good on the picture I gave you though. And I think you are big enough to draw your own conclusions... Unless..."

Eames couldn't take it anymore. He grappled Saito’s collar and shook him violently, threatening him to kill him if he said one more word. In the meantime, Saito’s men had grabbed Eames and were holding a knife to his throat. After a few seconds of mayhem, Eames let go of the other man and calmed down.

Saito coughed a bit and ordered Eames out. When he passed the door, Saito said, his voice a bit raspy while holding his throat. “I will forgive you, because I know how it feels like to be betrayed. But raise your hand against me once more, and your _lover_ won’t have any body to mourn over. Now go away and don’t ever come back.”

The door loudly banged behind Eames’ back. He had been shaken by his meeting with Saito, and the things he had told him had only confirmed his fears and intensified the feeling of betrayal inside of him. This time, more than ever, he needed his Arthur, and he knew where to find him. But first, he had someone to pick up.

 

* * *

 

 

_10.35 a.m._

Arthur was busy explaining to Cobb once more that yes, he had understood what he was looking for, but no he hadn’t found it in his office, when he heard a car coming. He didn’t pay attention to it until the doorbell rang. He stood and went to open the door. The sound of people arguing came to his ears, and he wondered what the hell was going on.

When he opened the door he was surprised to see Eames holding Ariadne by the arm. She had obviously resisted, but the Englishman was strong and she hadn’t managed to set her arm free.

“Eames, Ariadne, what’s going on?” Arthur asked, perplexed and still standing in the doorway.

“I’ll explain it when we’re all in. Where are the children?” he said while pushing the still astonished man.

Arthur followed them into the living-room where Dom was looking panicked on the couch.

“Marie and Peter took them to the zoo. They didn’t want to stay here anymore.”

“Great.” Eames answered while pushing Ariadne to the sofa, next to Dom who was trying to get up. “You stay still!” Eames yelled.

At this, Arthur knew something was extremely wrong. Whenever his lover was angry, he’d become quieter and would smile this wide grin that didn’t reach his eyes. But when this anger turned into rage and that some sadness or desperation was mixed in it, in other way when he was overwhelmed and didn’t how to react anymore, he would yell. Which meant that in the current situation, Eames was overwhelmed, more than Arthur had ever seen him. He quietly sat in an armchair in front of the sofa and waited for Eames to start explaining what was going on.

 

Eames paced a bit, ran his hands through his hair and on his face. Then suddenly, he stopped and turned to the three people quietly sitting next to him. “These two know how Mal is dead.” He said, pointing Ariadne and Cobb with his raised finger.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta daaaaam, so any guesses on how they’re involved? I tried to put some suspense, but I think I didn't quite managed... But I hope that all of this is obvious to me just because I wrote the fic...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... Last chapter... Took me some time, but as promised, I finished it. Thank you to all those who had the patience and courage to read it till the end.  
> Once again, enjoy and don't hesitate to tell me what you thought in a comment!
> 
>  
> 
> Warning/spoilers: to reward those who stayed till the end, I put a (very) short sex scene, but it actually looks like a punition more than anything because it's the first (adn probably the last) I've ever written so, yeah, not so great. But I wrote it, so I put it anyway.

            

 

 

_December 3 rd 1951, 10.40 a.m._

            Silence followed Eames’ statement. Arthur was dumbstruck, mouth agape. Ariadne and Dom were both very still, their head hanging low on their chest, as though they were trying to disappear into themselves. Eames looked exhausted and distraught. It was Arthur who came to his senses first.

 

A nervous laugh escaped him and broke the oppressive silence. “What are you talking about, Eames? They can’t have anything to do with Mal’s death, come on! Be serious!”

Eames glared at him. “Do you really think I’d joke about something like this? About the death of the person I saw as my sister?” his voice was trembling and for the first time, Arthur was filled with dread, just like Eames had been when he’d seen the picture Saito had sent him. He turned to Ariadne and Dom. Big tear drops were silently running on their cheeks. Instead of bringing pity to him, this only brought disgust and anger.

 

He wasn't yet certain of how they were involved in all of this, but his instinct told him it wasn’t good. Hell, his instinct had been screaming at him for a long time now, he just wasn’t paying attention to it, _didn’t_ _want_  to pay attention to it… And this, more than anything, angered him.

 

“Stop crying! And tell me what’s going on!” He was now standing up, looming over the two pitiful creatures he’d once called ‘friends’. Eames tried to calm him by placing a hand on his shoulder, but Arthur shrugged it. All fight and anger had left Eames to go to Arthur.

 

“Come on! Fucking explain yourselves!”

Cobb let a loud sob exit him, which angered the young man even more. A tiny whisper escaped Ariadne when Arthur raised his hand to grip Dom. Maybe shaking him will make the truth come out… But he stopped in his movement, waiting to hear what the young woman had to say.

 

“It wasn't my fault.” She mumbled.

 

Arthur turned his dark glare to her. “What did you say? I didn’t hear. ‘It wasn’t your fault’ you said? What wasn’t? What happened for fuck’s sake?!”

 

Ariadne burst into tears and kept on mumbling, but it was even less intelligible than before.

 

“They had an affair.” Eames declared. Somehow, at some point he must have been crying without Arthur seeing him because his voice was raspy and his eyes were red. Forgetting where they were, Arthur came to him and cradled him. “Who, Eames?” Arthur softly whispered. He feared he knew who his lover was talking about, but he needed to hear the words.

“Dom and Ariadne had an affair" That’s what was on the picture Eames had received. Dom and Ariadne entering a hotel together. And any hotel, _the_ hotel. "Mal discovered it and she was killed for it.” Then Arthur let his head drop on Eames shoulder and together they mourned the loss of their friends, their family, for with these simple words, their whole world had collapsed. No, it had been collapsing for awhile, but they were just now seeing it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_November 24 th 1951, 9.15 p.m._

The night was cold and wet, a true autumn’s night. Mal buried her head into her coat. She thought about her children, probably already asleep, in the neighbour’s house. They were supposed to spend a nice evening, the four of them. Mal had prepared a great diner; she had even put on a beautiful dress that she hadn’t worn for years. It was their anniversary after all. She had wanted to spent it alone with her husband, but she had decided that letting the children stay would be a way to punish Dom for not taking enough care of her.

 

For a few months now, he had been distant. He wouldn’t kiss her on the mouth, he wouldn’t ask about her day and wouldn’t talk about his. It was as if she and the children didn’t exist anymore…

 

 What Dom didn’t know was that his wife had once been a renowned thief. With Eames first, and Arthur then they had formed a smashing team responsible for the greatest and most famous thefts all across Europe and the Old World. So when her husband had started acting weird, she had investigated a bit. Old habits die hard, like they say…

 

Alone, she would have been limited because she had to take care of the children and the house, but Saito owed her a favour and he had accepted to help her. Nash, her exasperating team-mate when she had worked for Saito, had trailed Dom for a few days.  
That’s how she (or rather Nash) had discovered that the man for whom she had abandoned a thrilling life and several lovers, the one she considered to be the love of her life, the father of her children, was cheating on her.

 

With a younger girl who was her subordinate, what a _cliché_! She had met her. She seemed sweet and innocent, pretty face and cute, the kind of girls she had played with in the past. She was an orphan and was full of promises, so Mal had taken her under her wing. She had come several times under her roof; she had dined at her table all while knowing she was screwing her hostess’ husband. _Quelle salope*_!

 

So tonight, Dom was supposed to come home early and he’d have been surprised because of course he’d have forgotten it was their anniversary. And he’d have seen the children and realized what an idiot he’d been, and Mal would have forgiven him because she too was no angel.

But no, Ariadne –she had recognized the _petite conne_ ’s* voice- had phoned to tell he wouldn’t come home tonight, because he had a lot of work to do.

 

When Mal had hanged up the phone, she had felt cold anger flowing in her veins. It had been a long time since her old friend had visited her…last time, men had died…

 

 In a few hours, she had arranged everything: the diner had been carefully put in the fridge, the children were at the neighbour’s, she had called Nash and now here she was, waiting in the cold night.

 

Suddenly, a light on the ground floor of the hotel flickered twice, then once, then twice. It was their signal.

She went into the hotel by the back door. Nash welcomed her, with a grim face.

“Hey. I’m sorry that we had to it this way, Mal.”

She didn’t know if he was sincere, the man was a snake. Taking advantage of every situation possible to reach his goal, but never taking any risks himself. She shrugged away his comment.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve been through worse. Now tell me, which room is it?”

Nash sighed and turned to take a key on the counter. “Room 491.”

He put the key in her extended hand and she immediately turned her heels, not even sparing him another glance. When she was about to disappear into the dark hall, he stopped her. “Mal, I’m serious, be careful. An animal is always more dangerous when it’s cornered.”

She turned towards him and smiled widely, exposing her beautiful white teeth. In the dimly lit room her eyes were shining like a predator’s. “And I’m always more dangerous when I’m underestimated.”

Then she turned and he could hear her footsteps climbing the stairs. He sighed but the bad feeling he had had all evening didn’t go away. He thought to himself that he really shouldn’t have answered her call that night…

 

In her anger, Mal had turned the room upside down. She knew it wasn’t wise because it would tick her preys that something was off. But she didn’t care, she’ll just loose the effect of surprise. Hidden in the shadows, she waited. Then, the sound of footsteps. Muffled voices and laughter. A man’s and a woman’s. The key rattling in the lock. The creaking of the door opening.

“It’s dark, switch on the light please, I’m afraid of the dark. And it’s cold, why is the window open?” The girl whined.

The man laughed “Why is that? You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? I’ll warm you up!” he slapped her ass soundly and she squeaked. “I know but…you never know what’s in the shadows, do you?” At these words, Mal grinned. The poor _petite chérie*_ had no ideas…

 

 When the couple was busy entering the room and switching on the light, she swiftly came behind them and reached the door, making a slat creak. Beginner’s mistake…

 

Then everything went off at the same time: Ariadne gasped at the sight of the destroyed room; Dom turned his head towards the door to see what had caused the noise and cursed loudly when he saw Mal; and Mal closed the door behind her.

 

When both of them had their eyes on her, the French woman waved at them, grinning madly.

“Hello sweeties, surprised to see me here?” She looked crazy, her blue eyes wide open and her white teeth shining under the light. Ariadne began to cry, though if it was out of fear or guilt, Mal didn’t know.

“Mal, baby, I can explain…” Dom began, but Mal snapped at him, all trace of smile and play gone from her face. “You’ll talk when I allow you to. For now, I have to speak with this lovely lady over there.”

 

Dom and Ariadne were petrified. Mal began to gracefully walk towards the young woman.  She tried to go away and awkwardly stepped backwards, making broken glass and wood creak under her feet, when the French woman was walking without making a sound. She circled her, predatory smile back on her face.

 

“You are so young, so inexperienced yet. When I was your age, I too thought that everything was easy…” she was now gently caressing her cheeks with her index’s nail. “When I was your age, I had many…partners, and I didn’t care if I wasn’t their one and only. But now, times are different. Do you know what it is to be a lover? To be half of a whole?”

 

Ariadne was now shaking like a leaf. She managed to mutter a very quiet “No”. Suddenly, Mal scratched her cheek. “Of course not!” She grabbed her face with one hand, and lightly scratched the girl’s neck with the other.

 “Let me tell you a riddle, little girl. You’re waiting for a train, a train that will take you far away. You know where you _hope_ this train will take you, but you don’t know for sure. But it doesn’t matter. How can it not matter to you where that train will take you?”

Ariadne was now loudly sobbing. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I’m sorry…”

“Come on! Answer me! How can it not matter?” As Mal was violently shaking her, Cobb took her free hand. “Because we’ll be together.”

Mal dropped the younger girl to the floor, where she crawled to hide behind the bed. She turned towards her husband and looked him right in the eye. “Exactly, Dom, because we’ll be together. But I fear you’ve forgotten this was our riddle.”

“No, no of course not! Mal I love you, Mal listen to me…” he was begging her to listen, to look at him, but she had turned towards the window and couldn’t bring herself to look at this pathetic man that she had loved for so long.

 

“ _Mais…!_ Listen to you, Dom! You’re miserable! I trusted you, I gave up everything for you, I _loved_ you!”

He looked at her, an expression of deep hurt mixed with fear on his face. “ _Loved_ me? Mal, baby, calm down, listen to me, I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she yelled “You have no right to tell me to calm down. You betrayed me, Dom. You took me for granted, you took me for a fool, you abused my trust! Now it’s over!” She rushed past him and headed for the door, but he grabbed her arm and made her turn towards him.

“No! No, you won’t leave me! I told you I’m sorry, what do you want me to do more than that?” She hit him and freed her arm. “Let go of me! As soon as I come back home, I’ll take the children and we’ll go away from you! You stay with your whore, see if I care!”

 

Tears were running down her face but Dom could see determination in her eyes. She’d do it. She would leave him, take the children, and expose his misbehavior to bright light. He’d be all alone, his reputation would be ruined, he would lose his job… And she’ll probably live happily ever after without him, with some other man, with that fucking Englishman!

 

Suddenly, his vision was red. He shouted. A loud noise, like someone was banged against a wall. Another shout, not his, this time. A wet crack. Someone crying in a corner.

 

Then his vision was back. He was standing in front of the open window. A curtain was flapping in the cold wind. Why was it hanging out the window? He could hear Ariadne loudly crying next to the bed. Why was she crying? Mal wasn’t in the room anymore. How would she have left the room so quickly?...

His blood turned cold. No. No, no, no, no, no! His heart had never beaten so fast, yet each beat felt like a lifetime as his blood was pounding in his ears. He leant through the window.

 

In the dark autumn’s night, here it was, lying lifeless on the ground, blood slowly seeping away from it, taken by the cold rain. It would never move again. He could never love it again, take comfort into its warmth. Mal’s body would be cold forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Ariadne and Dom finished telling what had happened that night, silence once again took over the room. Suddenly, Arthur jumped on him, yelling and screaming all he could. His face was red from the effort of shouting and from crying. He had managed to land a few punches before Eames tore him away from Cobb.

 

“How could you do that?! I had faith in you! I thought you were a faithful man, just like I was! We all trusted each other, how could you betray us all?! How could you?!”

 

Eames took Arthur to the kitchen, to try and calm him. He rocked him in his arms for a couple minutes.  
“Can you stay alone for a few sec’ love? I need to call the police…” Arthur nodded, though he wasn’t able to speak yet. The Forger went to the phone and called Jim, to tell him they had resolved the case. He asked him to send a police car to fetch the two culprits as soon as possible. Ten minutes later, the car arrived. It was Jim and John themselves who were driving. They were very surprised to have to arrest the Chief and the front desk girl, but they trusted Arthur and Eames.

 

Neither Cobb nor Ariadne made a fuss at being arrested. They were both empty, the guilt had crushed them, and their tears had drained all their energy.

 

When they left, Eames took Arthur and led him to his car. They drove in silence, as if in a haze. But rapidly the silence became too heavy for Eames to bear, so he turned the radio on. The [song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9bPqh5P6QM) filled the car, and though the tone didn’t quite match up their mood, the lyrics seemed oddly fitting. They reached their little flat and once the door was closed behind them, they slowly shed their clothes, without a word.

 

They moved to the bedroom where they stayed standing naked in front of each other, still not a single word exchanged. Eames raised his hand and gently brushed Arthur’s cheek with the tip of his fingers. Very slowly, he came closer and pressed his body against Arthur’s.

 

It was December and the flat was chilly. The warmth of the other’s body made them shiver. The Forger resumed then to outline his lover’s face: his cheekbones; the spot where his dimples appeared when he smiled; the creaks at the corner of his eyes that showed he had lived; his nose cold when he was cold; his lips, soft and inviting.

 

He slid his hand to the back of his head and cradled it; all the while he splayed his other hand on the small of his back. Then, very gently, he pecked his eyes, his nose, the corners of his mouth, and then his lips; once, twice, again and again until suddenly Arthur came out of his frozen state.

 

Tears rolled on his cheeks from his closed eyes. He raised his arms and wrapped himself around the bulky Englishman. He slightly opened his mouth, thus allowing his lover to finally properly kiss him.

For awhile they just stood there, licking and nibbling at the other’s mouth, lips and tong, as if for the first time. Then they were on the bed, still hugging each other. They were re-discovering the other’s body caressing, groping, brushing, rubbing, as if they didn’t already know it by heart. But it was comforting, to see and feel that despite the terrible events that had just occurred, they still had each other. They could still hide in this familiar warmth, it was all that mattered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_December 4 th 1951_

 

In the morning, they woke up glued to each other by sweat and dried spunk. After a quickie in the shower, they were both sitting at their breakfast table, wondering what was going to happen from now on. One of their best friends had died, and the other one had been the one to kill her. He’d most likely go to prison, and though they both wished they could have taken care of him, they knew that letting him live with the guilt was a far worse punishment.

There was still the problem of Philippa and James. Legally, they were their respective godfathers and were allowed to take them in. But Peter and Marie were also in the picture and as the children’s grandparents; they had their say in the matter. Eventually, the only point that they agreed on was that they both couldn’t stand to stay in this city any longer. They were still young and they didn’t want to grow old thinking about all these horrible events, and then be filled with regrets and of ‘what if’s.

“ _Gooood morning! You’re listening to Radio Chicagoo! Today’s December the 4 th, and Christmas’s just around the corner! And to warm your hearts by this cold cold morning, here’s an old song by the French singer Charles Trenet simply called _[La Mer](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXQh9jTwwoA) _which means ‘the sea’. Oh yes, we’ll all liked to be by the sea right now!”_

Fin

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to put a transalation of the French words, though I'm sure you didn't need it:  
> * _quelle salope_ = "what a bitch/slut"  
>  _petite conne_ = "little cunt"  
>  _petite chérie_ = "little darling"
> 
> Thank you again for reading this till the end, hope you enjoyed it, and if you didn't like it, well I thank you nonetheless! (and maybe I apologise a little for inflicting you this)

**Author's Note:**

> Well... Actually, when I started writting this, I was very enthusiastic. But then I realised that I couldn't write in English like I do in French, because obvisouly: English is no French. So I apologise for all the mistakes and weird sentences.  
> Also, holidays happened and my being so slow to write kinda got me fed up with my own fic. I decided to finish and post it anyway but... I dunno, I'm not satisfied, I think it's too pompous. Let me know what you think, please?


End file.
